


Life among the Stars

by BlackWinged



Category: Colby Keller - Fandom, Dale Cooper - Fandom, No Fandom, porn - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-17 10:49:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1384825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackWinged/pseuds/BlackWinged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Samantha, a quiet, but determined young woman who cannot see a clear future for herself, unknowingly finds herself moving in with two of the moment's most sought after gay porn stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Life

**Author's Note:**

> (My inspiration for the male characters comes from the absolutely perfect pairing that is [Dale Cooper and Colby Keller](http://37.media.tumblr.com/1e6c9245295161a80bdcbba2c6d53c76/tumblr_n17qc7LujN1sds6g7o4_r1_500.gif), as they are probably my real life OTP. :)  
> However, I have decided to write original male characters for this story, so this isn't fan fiction per se, but, hopefully, you can enjoy certain hints of similarities between them.)

"Where is it, Aleisha?" she shouted, making a mess in yet another part of the dresser she was turning upside down.

"Where is what?" the girl asked sluggishly, leaning against the doorframe. "Does it get you off to ransack my room or something? You're such a fucking freak, I swear," she said, trying to pull her roommate out of the dresser and make her leave.

Gathering strength from places within her she didn't even know she had, Samantha pushed the other girl off of her shoulders, causing her to fall flat on her back, her drop cushioned by the thick carpet.

"The money. Where's the fucking money?" she screamed, red faced and angry, her jaw locked and her stare turned into pure rage, as she straddled the black haired girl down on the floor, pinning her wrists above her head.

"Get off of me, you crazy bitch. I don't know anything about any money," the girl in the grey hoodie moaned, squirming under the weight keeping her hips down against her will.

"You're high again, aren't you? You took our money for this month's bills to shoot up, didn't you?!" her roommate screamed, angrily shaking her.

"What's it to you?" she said, giving her an annoyed look. "I'm gonna sell some crack tonight and get it back. Why do you always have to be such an uptight bitch about everything? Geez… No wonder nobody likes you."

"You… you're gonna… what?" the distressed girl asked in disbelief. "Listen, you piece of shit. I gave up my job to see you make it through rehab. There were people outside those offices every day, willing to claw their way in just for an internship at the newspaper I left, and I was getting _paid_ for it! You know, paid? The thing that kept this fucking roof over your head? That gave you these shitty clothes that you cover your bare ass with?" she said, pulling on the sweatpants the other girl was wearing.

The woman under her tried to squirm and roll out from under her, but, instead, got pushed down harder, her shoulders hitting the floor once again.

"You wasted two years of my life stealing, cheating and abusing my friendship, my kindness and the last threads of sanity I had left. I have reached the end of my wits with you, Aleisha. This is rock bottom. You're the lowest form of life there is out there. You've looked me in the eye while lying through your teeth so many times and have made a fool of me more than I care to remember. But this is the last stop for me, Aleisha. This is where I get off. You've made it clear that you're not willing to let anyone help you or change anything about yourself, so, congratulations. Your train wreck of a life is all yours now. Steer it straight into hell, because that's where you're going."

"Fuck you!"

"Nah, I've fucked myself enough by living with you for so long. It's finally time I move on and try to take care of my own life for once." Her arms softening their grip, she began to get off the other woman, getting to her knees before she rose once again.

The brunette stood on her elbows, her hair a mess and all of her clothes awkwardly hanging off of her bony frame.

A thought seemed to run through her head before she sneered.

"So what are you planning on doing now, huh? Just pack up and leave?"

"Precisely," the other girl said, straightening out her shirt.

"And where exactly are you gonna go, eh? You ain't got no friends! Remember?" the drugged out girl yelled before falling back down flat, in a fit of laughter, made more potent by her high.

"I don't have any friends in here either, so what's the difference?" the girl said, walking down the hallway.

"You're so stupid! At least I have a place to stay in. What about that, Ms. I've-Got-It-All-Figured-Out?"

"Yeah, you have a place. Good luck keeping up the mortgage payments on your house now that I won't keep track of the bills piling up in your mailbox."

The other girl most likely hadn't even listened to her, as she was already drifting off into her own world, her eyes rolling in the back of her head as she used her emergency stash taped to the inside of her shoe to drown out Samantha's voice from the other room. There was always too much pain in the truth for her to handle.

***

Walking out of the pawn shop, Samantha counted the few hundreds of dollars she had managed to scrape up from the last handful of valuables she had left.

"Grandma's brooch," she reprimanded herself, looking at the grossly undervalued amount she had received in exchange for the antique.

It had been passed down from one generation to another, on her mother's side, on the day each woman in her family had got married. Her dad had given it to her shortly after her mother had died.

"Your mother kept waiting for your wedding day to give you this, but I guess she waited too long, God bless her soul," he'd said, handing her the precious stone embedded piece of jewelry.

"Dad…" she mumbled, barely able to hold back her tears.

"It's yours now," he whispered, his voice shaky, as he placed it in her palm and closed her fist around it.

What she'd wanted to tell him was that she'd never get married. She wasn't the type to believe in "forever after"s, really. Which was why she felt she was not entitled to receive it. It made her feel like a liar and a thief to all of those long since passed women in her family.

But she didn't want to deepen the wound in her father's heart even further, so she just nodded and silently accepted it.

It had been carried around in her tattered backpack, wrapped up in an old handkerchief bearing her grandmother's initials, from one state to another, in Samantha's pursuit of happiness or… at least a place where life would finally make sense to her and make her understand why she had been put on this Earth.

She'd thought she'd found it when she made friends with Aleisha, the waitress at the little eatery she had lunch in every day, during her break from work. She seemed fun and easygoing, which was something that a strict girl like Samantha felt she needed - someone to pull her out of her shell, make her explore life and have the courage to go on an adventure.

Unfortunately, the adventure proved to be a long, hideous fall down the rabbit hole, where Aleisha slowly began revealing her dark side, hiding addictions and preying on all those around her to keep her careless lifestyle alive.

Despite her best efforts, Samantha couldn't help pull her back out.

After struggling to keep an addict out of trouble for so long, she couldn't even recognize _herself_ any longer. "Hell, I look like a drug addict myself," she thought, noticing the dark circles tarnishing her pale skin, her frayed hair and tatty clothes, seeing her reflection in the windows of the shops she was passing by.

She stopped at a newsstand and picked out a newspaper. Thanking the man, she took out a red marker and sat on the bench across the street. Those ads for places to rent seemed to stretch into forever. Sighing, she began going through them one by one.

***

" _Roommate wanted: non-smoker,_ very _open minded, must like cats. First two rents paid upfront in cash._ " The telephone number was the closing line on the piece of newspaper she had torn and slipped in her pocket.

It was clear from all the ads she had gone through that she couldn't afford to live on her own. Not yet at least. In fact, it was a miracle if she could even rent a room and share a place with someone else. The real estate market must have gone up during all those years she had become oblivious to the world.

She ran her fingers through her hair and tried to fix her clothes once more. Coughing, she took a deep breath in and finally worked up the courage to ring the doorbell.

A few drowned out noises were heard from inside, before footsteps seemed to be rushing towards the door, by the sound of it.

" _She's here! Come downstairs!_ " A dark silhouette showed through the frosted glass of the front door, before the handle turned and a tall man poked his head outside, all smiles.

"Umm, hello. I called earlier… about a room to rent?" she asked timidly, waving the little piece of newspaper in front of him.

"Yes, come in, come in. We were just getting ready for you," he said, showing her inside.

"Oh, good. I hope I'm not early. I just…"

"Hey, you must be Samantha," another man said, showing up behind him and extending his hand. "I'm Derek, and I believe you've met Tom."

"Yes, hi," she answered, smiling, looking from one man to the other, unsure of which of them she had spoken to on the phone.

"Why don't you come over in the living room?" he asked, leading her towards the simple, yet tidy corner where a couch and two sofas were set up.

She looked around the room and couldn't help but let a little smile creep on her lips. It was so airy, so full of light, with sheer, white curtains fluttering in the summer breeze, instead of the dark draperies that were always blocking out the sun in her former place… Aleisha used to complain that the light gave her headaches.

Sure, the furniture was a little worn around the edges, the hard wood floors creaked each time you stepped on them and paint was chipping off the outside walls of the house.

But this? This felt like someone had just placed an oxygen mask over her mouth right as she was struggling for her last breath of air.

"Uh, do you like tea?" Derek asked.

"What?" she said, still dazed, staring around the room and just letting the feeling of what looked like a _happy_ place sink in.

"Tea. Are you a fan?" Tom repeated, eyeing her curiously.

"Oh, yes. I love it," she admitted. "Odd… I can't remember the last time I had any…" she murmured, more to herself. "I haven't had tea in so long…" she whispered, realizing how much of herself she had lost along the way during the last couple of years.

"Right. Well, you just sit here and take a look around the place, while Derek and I go make some, okay?"

She nodded silently, moving to the window to see the view.

"My God, the beach…" she said, amazed, noticing a minuscule hint of dark waves glittering in the distance.

"Yeah, it's about a fifteen minute walk to it. If you want, we can check it out after you're done seeing the house," Derek told her.

"I'd love to!" she said enthusiastically, feeling her heart begin to slowly beat again, like a dusty, old machine that's been given a test run, just to surprise everyone that it still works.

"We..." Derek began, before Tom pulled his arm, making weird faces at him to signal that he wanted him in the kitchen. "Yeah, we'll be right back."

Putting the kettle on, Tom whispered to him, "Dude, what's with her?"

The other man shrugged, picking up a biscuit and breaking it in half before throwing a chunk in his mouth. "What?"

"Didn't you see the way she's looking at everything? Like she's drifting into space or something?"

"Oh, what are you talking about? She's just in a new place and she's surrounded by strangers. Of course she's going to feel a little awkward. And what do you mean she's looking at everything? Wouldn't you be if you were thinking about moving in a new place?" Derek questioned.

"I think she's weird. She's barely said anything since she got here," Tom pointed out.

"Well, why don't you ask her something? Maybe that will get the ball rolling."

Derek poured the hot water in a mug and added the bag of tea inside. "Now come on, let's go back in there… and be civil."

Tom grunted, but followed him with the plate of biscuits.

"So, Samantha was it?" Tom asked, pushing the plate towards her.

She nodded, barely managing to contain herself from pulling the entire thing to herself. She hadn't eaten a thing since the day before and she felt faint, but her good manners prevented her from acting impolite, so she just delicately chose one piece and tried to eat it as gently as possible.

"What do you do for a living?" he continued.

"Well," she said, trying to swallow down the last crumbs, "I do online work for several women's organizations - websites dedicated to women's rights, I run newsletters for a few shelters for abused women, I have a weekly column in a small, local newspaper for women's health… that type of thing." She eyed the plate, but restrained herself. "May I?"

"Sure, I'm glad you like them." Derek smiled, letting her help herself to more biscuits.

"So you're a lesbian then," Tom said.

"Tom! What the fuck?" Derek hissed, hitting the other man's arm.

"I… uh… no, I don't think so," she responded, a bit unprepared for the comment.

"Cool, 'cause neither are we," Tom told her, thinking himself funny, as he laughed at his own joke.

"Tom, seriously. What's wrong with you?" Derek looked at him in disbelief.

"Hey, come on, I'm just lightening the mood here," Tom defended himself.

"You can't just go saying that kind of stuff to people!"

"Oh, hey, it's okay. I don't mind. I don't find it offensive or anything," she tried to calm him down.

"Well, we had to get to it at some point, so we might as well talk about it now," Tom began.

"Not now," Derek hissed.

"Uh, no, really. I'm not upset," the girl tried to make peace between the two.

"See? She's fine with it." Tom nodded, waving his hand as if to say Derek was overreacting.

"So I take it you mostly do part time work then?" Derek asked, trying to change the topic of conversation.

"Actually, I mostly work from home. I do have to make a few runs to the centers to take snapshots or do some interviews and stuff like that every once in a while, but I mainly do my work from my trusty laptop," she said, patting the backpack lying at her feet.

The head of an orange tabby cat peeked from around the corner, curiously taking the stranger in. She slid around the edges of the furniture, with shadow-like stealth, before cautiously approaching the intruder. After giving it a moment's thought, the cat curled itself around the girl's calf, rubbing against the warmth of her leg.

Samantha leaned down and reached for the furry creature.

"Careful, she-" Derek began, but his words got lost along the way.

The cat began purring happily, like a well oiled engine.

"How did you do that?!" Tom asked in disbelief.

"What?" the girl said, looking up at the two of them, as the cat made content sounds when she began rubbing it behind her ears.

"She hates strangers and we usually have to keep her locked up in the bedroom when we have company, because she likes to attack people's feet under the table or their hands."

"Yeah, she gave me a really nasty scratch all the way down my arm the first time I came over to his house," Tom said, pointing to the other man. "It's been over two years now and she's barely managed to let me get around her without hissing nowadays."

"Do you have kitty nibbles in your pockets or something?" Derek asked, chuckling.

The girl laughed, shaking her head. "I'm afraid I don't or else I would've given them to her by now." She picked the cat up in her lap. "You're not a bad girl, are you? You just need someone to understand you, don't you? Don't you? Who's a pretty little girl? You are. Yes, you are. Yes, you are," she said in a baby voice, stroking the subdued animal.

The two men just shared a look, silently telling each other everything they needed to say, before shaking their heads.

"Okay, cool. So, do you have lots of furniture to move in?" Derek said.

The girl smiled, wondering if that meant that she got accepted as the new co-tenant. "What you see is what you get."

"Huh?" Tom asked, confused.

"I just have my backpack and a duffle bag of clothes," she told them, shrugging.

"You did read the part about paying rent upfront though, right?" Tom said, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, yeah, I've got the money right here," she confirmed, pulling out her wallet and waving the wad of money.

"Well, we might have a problem though," Derek began.

"What's the matter?" Samantha asked.

"We figured whoever was moving in would bring their own stuff, so… the extra room currently has no bed," Tom said, looking at the other man, who was nodding.

The woman shrugged. "It'll be fine. I'm not that fussy. I'll just work something out."

"I only have an inflatable mattress that we use for the beach, but I can give you that, if you want. It's better than nothing," Tom offered.

"Well, if you don't need it, then I think it sounds great," Samantha said, thankful.

"Then it's settled. If you like the place, I think…" Derek began, looking at Tom, before they both smiled and turned their eyes to her again. "I think I've found my new roommate."

"Excellent! Thank you so much!" Samantha chirped, extending her hand and displaying a firm grip that took both men by surprise.

"I have a feeling this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship," Derek mused.


	2. Getting to Know You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samantha wakes up to find out what sharing a house with two men feels like, getting to know more about them along the way.

Lazily, she opened one eye, feeling the sunshine warm the roundness of her cheeks, trying to convince her that it was too late to stay in bed any longer. Stretching one arm above her head, she wiggled her toes, the inflatable mattress making funny sounds as her body changed positions with each turn.

She slowly got out of bed, her bare feet pit-pattering across the hardwood floor. Opening the creaky door, she got in the bathroom. Samantha grabbed the glass by the sink and turned on the tap, letting it fill up. She could hear the pipes rattle as water made its way up to her floor.

Brushing her teeth, she put her hair up in a messy bun and took a freezing cold shower - the water only starting to warm up as she was about done getting ready for the new day.

Despite all the imperfections and little snags this house had, she couldn't help but realize that this was the first time she'd woken up _happy_ in a very long time. Smiling at herself in the mirror, she decided to get dressed and see what else her move was going to bring her.

She rummaged through her duffle bag, pulling out the first thing she could get her hands on, pulled it over her head and then slipped into her jeans. Sliding her feet into a pair of flexible flip flops, she headed down the stairs, wondering if she was home alone.

The back door was open, the sound of huffing and laughter making its way inside.

She pushed open the screen door, watching the two men enjoying the sunny day out on the house's little patch of grass.

"A two year-old could make it faster than you!" Tom teased the other man.

"Hey, you're already aware that I don't like sports, so I really don't know what you were expecting," Derek tried to counteract the banter.

"What sports? This is Frisbee, for crying out loud!"

"I'm running, aren't I?" Derek complained, chasing the plastic disc that had once again gone whizzing over his head, landing in the thick bushes.

Tom laughed loudly, shaking his head. "How you haven't ended up weighing more than you do is still completely beyond me."

"What, jealous of my natural boyish good looks?" Derek joked, posing with a hand on his hip and batting his eyelashes, before they both began to laugh.

"Yeah, yeah. Just throw that back already, will you?" Tom said, trying to get him back in the game.

The round piece of plastic missed Tom's hands by an inch, landing in the grass.

Samantha took a step forward and picked it up, handing it back to him.

"Good morning," she said, flashing them a friendly smile.

"Morning was when I had my coffee. It's past noon, doll-face," Tom replied with a smirk, raising an eyebrow.

She looked over his shoulder, establishing eye contact with Derek. "I just heard 'coffee'," she said, apologetically raising her hands.

The dark haired man smiled, appreciating her humor. "There's some coffee left in the kitchen, I think. Come on, we'll join you," Derek told her.

"Hey, I know! Why doesn't she play with us?" Tom offered, turning to Samantha.

Derek desperately shook his head 'no' behind him, signaling to the woman to turn him down.

"I, uh… don't really think… I'm the… Frisbee-ing type," she said, her lips curling in an awkward smile.

"Come on, you promised me we could go inside if I kept you company while you ran around and did your sit ups," Derek pointed out to him.

"I didn't think you'd be counting down the minutes!" Tom protested.

"I didn't think _I'd_ end up doing most of the running," Derek mumbled under his breath as everyone went inside.

Tom plopped himself on the living room sofa, his body bouncing against the pillows.

Samantha followed Derek into the kitchen. Picking out a fresh mug from the dish dryer, he grabbed the coffee pot and began pouring the black liquid down to the last drop.

"Precisely one cup left, heh," he said, handing it to her.

"Oh, we can share," Samantha offered.

"Nah, I've had my fix already. But thanks. Too much coffee just makes me jumpy and I hate that," he explained.

Taking one step closer to the doorway, he shouted, "Tom, do you want anything?"

"A smoothie would be nice," the other man called back from the living room.

Derek rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively. "Pfft, yeah, right. What does he think this is, a spa?"

Samantha giggled, watching him just grab a random bottle of water from the fridge instead.

Walking back to the living room, they discovered Tom aimlessly flipping through the channels, one foot on the coffee table and the other bent under him.

Derek found a free spot and sat on the arm of the sofa, handing the water bottle to the other man.

"What's this?" Tom asked, disappointed.

"The tears of unicorns. Now drink it, Your Majesty. It's all we have in the fridge," Derek replied sarcastically.

Samantha almost snorted her coffee, enjoying the way the two men kept throwing comebacks at each other.

"Go back, go back," Derek suddenly said, tapping Tom's arm.

Pressing the button on the remote, Tom returned to the previous TV station. "Oh, your favorite, _Twin Peaks_ , I should have known."

"Sssh, I missed this episode last night," Derek tried to make him quiet down.

Tom shook his head at Samantha and whispered, "He's gotta be the biggest geek you'll ever meet. He watches all these old reruns of shows he already knows all the lines to."

Derek just grabbed the remote out of his hand and turned the volume up, covering the sound of the conversation in the room.

"You're such a dork," the dark blonde haired man teased him, "but you're my dork," he added, pulling Derek off the sofa's arm and kissing his neck.

The brunette protested half-heartedly against the affectionate attack of Tom's lips, smiling as he tried to push him away, wanting to go back to watching his show. "Get off. You're all wet and stinky," he complained unconvincingly.

"That's what a good workout feels like, geek boy! It's the smell of success," Tom replied, giving his partner a big smooch and laughing as he watched him squirm in his arms.

"In that case, I think I'd rather be a failure," Derek said, making Samantha grin.

"Alright, alright. I'll go grab a shower then," Tom finally agreed, lazily getting up from the couch.

"Don't be in there long. I need to get ready for work," the other man warned him.

"Can you believe this guy?" Tom asked, turning to Samantha. "He runs around on his bicycle all day long, earning him these killer calves," he explained, rolling up the bottom of Derek's pants to prove his point, "but he couldn't bench press a bag of flour if his life depended on it."

"What can I say? Every day is leg day," Derek remarked before shrugging nonchalantly.

"Just come to the gym with me for a week and I promise I'll make you forget all about your dumb bike," Tom said loudly, as he headed for the stairs. "You already hate the way the seat keeps giving you that rash on your ass," he pointed out as he started going up.

"Umm…" Samantha mumbled, hiding her face behind her coffee cup, trying to mask her embarrassment.

"God damn it, Tom!" Derek said, quickly turning around on the couch, making one of the decorative pillows tumble to the floor.

"Too much info?" Tom asked, twisting his body as he got on the last step, flashing the people in the living room an amused smirk.

"…Yeah!" the other man replied annoyed, sighing.

The blonde just shrugged and entered the bathroom, failing to see what the big fuss was about.

Derek turned towards Samantha, giving her an awkward smile. "Sorry about him. Sometimes I think he doesn't really have a brain-to-mouth filter. He just sort of blurts things out without giving it too much thought."

"A straight shooter. I like that," Samantha told him, nodding.

"His intentions are good, but I'm not sure about his means," he said.

"Nah, your boyfriend's funny. And you guys are really cute together, by the way. How long have you two been a couple?"

Derek's features stiffened for a second and he paused, before looking back at her. "We've… been dating for a while now. About three years this summer, I guess."

"Sorry. Didn't mean to pry," Samantha apologized, feeling like she might have stepped on someone's toes with that question.

"No, you didn't. It's just that it's… complicated… with us. We're sort of off again and on again all the time, so it's difficult to pin point everything between us like that," he told her.

Samantha smiled kindly. She knew all too well how difficult socializing and keeping up healthy relationships was. "You seem to be doing fine now, at least. That's the only thing that matters at the end of the day, right?" she tried to encourage him.

Derek looked at her in surprise before flashing her a big smile and nodding. "Yeah, guess you're right," he agreed.

"So what's with the bike then?" Samantha tried to change the subject.

"Oh, I'm a bike messenger," he said.

"Ha…" she couldn't help but exclaim. Somehow, the two men had made an impression on her, which didn't happen often in her world. And in that impression, there was no room for any unskilled jobs that didn't make use of their striking quick wit.

He saw the slight hint of surprise in her and decided to save her the question. "I don't like to be tied down to anything, you know? It helps me have change in my pocket, but still be able to go around as I like."

Samantha tried to pretend like she understood, when, in fact, his explanation only managed to spread her confusion even further.


	3. Who We Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samantha's house-mates test her open mindedness when they confess their profession.

"You live like a savage, I swear," Tom's shocked voice comes through from the kitchen, as Samantha quickly does a bit of math in her head before writing something down on her notepad.

"I'd just end up throwing most things away, since I rarely have time to use any of the fresh stuff you stock my fridge with anyway," Derek tells him, defending the desolate state of his kitchen.

"You have time. You're just too lazy to put those two hands of yours to work," the blonde scolds him. 

Derek dramatically wiggles his fingers in the air, before cupping Tom's face and kissing him on the lips.

"Oh, no you don't," Tom warns him. "You're not getting away that easy."

Derek pretends to pout, disappointed to see that Tom has got used to his tricks by now.

Then again, if his mind can't outsmart him, at least his feet can outrun him, the brunette decides, dashing out of the kitchen with the soundtrack of Tom's protests still playing in the background.

He goes to his new roommate for help, hoping she could distract his partner from making him invest more effort into getting food than just pressing the speed dial on his phone. He looks at her expectantly, but Samantha barely seems to pay any attention to him.

"Twenty four… with a ten percent discount? No, wait, that was the other website…" she mumbles, going over her notes. She navigates through the tabs open in her browser window, cradling her laptop on her knees, before she makes a disgusted face. "Urgh, it was the ugly one. No way," she says, before quickly closing the page.

"…I'm always starving around here. I can't take it anymore. Come on, we need to get some food," Tom comes out of the kitchen, ending his speech, realizing the other man had managed to sneak away from him in the meantime.

"This one doesn't even come with the pillow. What the fuck!" Samantha continues the imaginary argument with the voice of reason inside her head, angrily crossing out a line she had written down in her notepad.

Tom looks at her, confused by all the mumbling. "What's the matter?"

Samantha turns her head up towards him, frowning. "I've been trying to buy a simple pack of sheets, with a pillow case and maybe a blanket, without breaking the bank, so I thought I'd shop online. First of all, when on earth did a lousy piece of rectangular fabric get so freakin' expensive?! And second of all, why is everything that does not cost an arm and a leg so ugly?"

"Why don't you just go for a simpler one? Like plain white or something?" Derek asks, finding her issue unnecessarily complicated.

"Don't you think I figured that out? But guess what! The ones that are affordable require you to pay shipping cost. And the shipping cost is twice the price you pay for the bedding itself!" Samantha declares exasperated, turning her notepad towards him and tapping on the price list she had made.

"You two are giving me a headache. Come on, both of you in the car, right now," Tom declares, picking up his car keys from the coffee table.

"What did I do?" Derek asks innocently.

"You're giving me low blood sugar, now let's go," Tom declares assertively, convincing the others to follow him to his car.

"Where are we going?" Samantha questions, getting in the back seat, as Derek shuts the door on the passenger's side.

Tom puts his keys in the ignition and takes the car out of the driveway. "Mr. Malnourishment and I are going to the supermarket to grab some food for tonight."

Derek makes a face, mocking every word coming out of the other man's mouth.

"There's a home decoration and furniture store nearby, and I'm pretty sure they sell bedding there as well. You can check it out and see if you find anything you like. We'll drop you off on our way to the supermarket and then pick you up when we're done. That way you won't have to worry about shipping costs," Tom declares, managing to sort out all of their problems in a single move.

Samantha's face lights up and Tom watches her beaming from the back seat in his rear view mirror.

"Everyone happy now?" Tom asks smiling.

Derek would like to complain, just for the hell of it, but there isn't much he can add to deflate Tom's ego right now, so, instead, he just huffs, feeling like he was hijacked from the comfort of spending the entire day lounging in his sweatpants. "Fine, but we're stopping by that pastry shop on our way back," he finally finds the solution to make him have the last word.

"We most certainly are not. That shit's bad for you. Plus, we had junk food last week," Tom declares, shaking his head, always the health freak.

"Last week!!!" Derek shrieks. "I want donuts _today_. Not the lingering thought of the donuts I had five days ago!"

"Oh, Geez, you're worse than a little spoiled brat, I swear," Tom declares, steering the car around the corner.

"Sam, you're getting off at the next stop, okay? Just look for a big store sign that says 'Cozy Home'. We'll call you when we're leaving the supermarket, so that you can meet us back here," he instructs her.

The woman nods, waiting for the car to get closer to the sidewalk before she hops off, trying to find her way down the street.

Forty-five minutes later, the couple calls Samantha and they ask her to meet them in the nearby parking lot.

"Now would you look at that smiling face," Tom says, grinning, watching Samantha approach them, holding a large package in her hands.

"Hey, so you found what you were looking for?" Derek asks.

"They even had it on sale!" she says excited, turning the box showing dark purple linens through the display case, towards them.

"Good job, kiddo," Tom tells her, opening the back door for her. "Now put that in the back, next to the grocery bags, so we can go get a bag of calories."

"A _delicious_ bag of _glazed_ calories," Derek corrects him, making the other man chuckle.

"Why aren't we taking the car?" Samantha asks.

"It's only a few blocks from here, and there's no parking over there. It's just a small shop down the street," Tom explains, as they start walking.

A few minutes later, they reach the pastry shop inconspicuously set between a computer repair store and a crowded Taiwanese hole-in-the-wall restaurant.

"Ok, so I want plain, you want jelly-" Tom begins, pointing to the middle row of donuts temptingly laid out in the store window.

"-Mmm, jelly for my belly," Derek says, comically rubbing his stomach.

"What about you?" Tom asks her, shaking his head at Derek's earlier buffoonery.

Samantha shrugs. "I don't know. What's best here?"

"It depends. Do you like chocolate? 'Cause then you should try the chocolate covered chocolate cream-" Derek starts telling her.

"-Yes, that one!" Samantha cuts him off, already feeling herself drooling.

Derek smirks.

"Looks like you've found each other. Two unhealthy food enthusiasts," Tom complains.

"We prefer the term 'junk food connoisseurs'," Samantha objects, before winking at the brunette.

"Oh, Lord. Just don't get him back to his old habits. It took me a long time to get this one to learn how to eat right," the taller man says, pointing his finger in his partner's direction.

"Scout's honor," she tells him.

"You've never been a scout!" the dark haired blonde complains.

"You'll never know," Samantha says, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Will you just go place the order already? I'm dying to stuff one in my mouth," Derek shrieks, pushing the other man towards the entrance.

"Aww, I thought you only used that line on me, babe," Tom tells him, pretending to look sad.

Samantha howls with laughter behind him as she hears them.

"Oh, just go already," Derek tells him, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, how 'bout popping in the restaurant and getting me some bubble tea? You know the one I like," Tom asks nicely.

"Okay, meet you back here," his partner agrees. "Come on, Sam."

As they enter the cramped restaurant, the brunette goes up to the counter and requests three tea-based drinks to go.

"Oh my God!" a girl shrieks from a table, a minute later. "It's him! Fuck, you guys, look!"

Samantha turns her head to see what all the commotion is about and finds a group of girls shrieking and pointing towards them. She looks around, to see if anyone else was waiting in line or if anyone remotely interesting-looking is sitting at the tables nearby, but can't seem to spot anyone worthwhile.

"Is it really him?" one of them asks loudly.

"Oh, no," Derek says between gritted teeth.

Samantha frowns, confused, finding that they were all staring at the two of them.

Just then, the loudest of the group gets up from her seat and confidently starts walking up to them. She taps Derek's shoulder.

"Umm, excuse me. Nick? I'm sorry to be bothering you, but I'm a huge fan of yours. Do you… do you think you could take a picture with my friends and I?" she asks him, all jittery.

"Look, I… I'm waiting for my order here and I'm kind of in a hurry, so…" Derek mumbles under his breath, forcing a smile.

"It'll only take a moment," she says persistently, pulling out her smartphone out of her pocket and taking a quick selfie of her with Derek in the background, before he can get a chance to protest. "Thanks a million! You're so hot!" she says, before scampering back to her table.

Samantha gives him a weird look, as Derek shoves a cup of bubble tea in her hand, hurriedly trying to make his way out of the restaurant as soon as they're handed their drinks.

"What was that all about?" she asks, failing to understand what had happened.

"Nothing. I don't know them," Derek tries to push the conversation away.

"Why did that girl call you 'Nick', though?" she continues.

Derek huffs, irritated. "They… they… know me from this video I posted, ok? I guess they know me from the internet. I go by the name of 'Nick' over there, alright?"

Samantha quiets down, wondering why he was getting so upset over it. 'Nick' didn't seem like that original of a screen name, come to think of it, but she didn't really see what was wrong with that.

Tom finally comes out of the shop, carrying three huge bags with a cartoon of a dancing donut printed on each of them.

"What took you so long?" Derek raises his voice at him.

"There was a long line. What's up with you?" Tom asks, getting defensive.

The earlier high pitched scream comes through the window of the Taiwanese place, and the group of girls comes stumbling out.

"Nick and Jake on the same day! Oh my God! I so knew that you two were really together! This makes it so much better, knowing that it's real now," one of the girls says, jumping up and down in front of them.

"Ok… _Jake_?!" Samantha wonders out loud, cocking a questioning eyebrow in the brunette's direction.

Derek curses. "Yeah. So he was in the same video with me," he continues to explain.

Tom smirks, awkwardly waving his hand at the girls crowding around him.

"Can you sign my friend's scarf, please?" a tall blonde asks, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Sure. Nice to meet you all," Tom tells them, taking the sharpie he's handed and giving them his autograph.

"When can we expect to see any new stuff from you guys?" the girl asks.

"No plans yet. But I'm hoping soon," Tom answers, as he says good-bye to the group of strangers.

As the house mates walk back to the parking spot, an eerie silence sets in.

Tom throws a glance at the other two. Samantha looks lost, while Derek seems to be sulking over the unwanted interaction.

As he unlocks the car, his passengers quietly get in, closing the doors behind them.

They drive back home, their car waiting its turn at a red light.

Samantha finally breaks the silence.

"Umm… so what is this video that I've apparently been missing all my life about?"

Tom looks at Derek, taken by surprise.

"You've told her?" he silently mouths to his partner, hoping she won't see him.

Derek nods back at him, his palm shaking unsteadily in the air, as if to say 'sort of'.

Tom's eyes widen, signaling that now is the time and that there's nothing left to wait for any longer.

He clears his voice. "Well, Sam… we have a website and…"

"Cool. What's the URL?" she asks.

"We'll… we'll give you the link later, if you really want it," he replies, trying to hold back the need to laugh.

"Ok, thanks. So you post funny videos there or something? Of stuff you do? Is it like Jackass?" she goes on.

"It does involves 'asses', that's for sure," Tom says, enjoying a hearty laugh now.

Derek grunts and turns around, looking at her in the back seat.

"Look, Sam… We're… porn stars."

The woman looks at his serious face for a second before laughing at him and scoffing. "Yeah, sure, and I'm the Queen of Egypt."

Tom smirks from behind the wheel. "Can I just call you 'Cleopatra' for short?"

Samantha frowns, watching the two men act as if there was no joke behind their earlier statement.

"No… but… Derek works as a bike messenger and you…" she babbles.

"Hon, we all need to have a day job in between shooting adult films. Everyone does," Tom tries to explain to her calmly.

"So you… you really… porn?" she asks in disbelief.

"Yep. Nick Swallow and Jake Granite, right here," Tom says, nodding.

Samantha looks shocked for a second, before having a moment to think, and bursts out laughing. "Those have to be the dumbest stage names ever."

"Oh, then you clearly haven't heard of the other guys down at the film studio," Derek tells her, shaking his head.

The guys look at each other, feeling slightly more at ease that she didn't seem to have a violent reaction upon hearing their secret.

"Does it bother you?" Derek asks, turning towards her once more.

"I'm a little blind sighted, I'll admit. I don't think I saw that coming at all," she tells him.

"It's not like we shout it from the rooftops to everyone we meet," Tom explains.

"But bothered? No! Why should I be? It's something you guys choose to do with your own lives, so I don't see why that should bother _me_. Go have filmed sex if that's what you're good at. …And, based on those girls' reactions, you're _really_ good at it," Samantha says, her lips stretching in a wide grin.

The guys chuckle.

"Does that mean you'd like that link when we get home?" Tom asks mischievously, testing her.

"Umm… I don't think I'm ready for that level of exposure from you yet," Samantha politely declines the offer.

"Okay, but you know... If you ever change your mind…" Derek jokes about it.

"Yeah, porn stars right here," Tom says, comically pointing at the two of them, as the car finally brings them back home.


	4. So It Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you don't quite know what you want, until you get it...

Setting her alarm clock for the following morning, Samantha yawns, her eyes now definitely losing the battle with sleep.

She grabs an elastic band off the nightstand and pulls her hair in a messy ponytail.

With a relieved sigh, she turns off the lamp and slides her feet under the comfy duvet.

Through the darkness, she reaches out for her lip balm and coats her dry lips, in a routine gesture.

It had been a long day at work, and she was glad to finally be able to put her head down on her pillow and rest. She deserved it.

As she begins to go over the list of things she has to do tomorrow, her mind slowly begins to drift off, washing away her worries, until all is lost in the land where time does not exist.

…

A strange sound disturbs her rest, and she's woken from her deep sleep. Turning on her side, she tries to understand what is going on, her mind not fully alert yet. Perhaps it was just a dream? Or a nightmare even?

But as she attempts to remember what she had been imagining in her sleep, she hears it again. Like a choked scream.

She listens in, her eyes wide open in the dark.

There it is again!

A muffled, unusual grunt.

She raises her back, sitting in the middle of the bed, worried about the source of the odd noise.

And now she can make it out clearly. This time, she can tell, without a doubt, that this was a moan.

A quiet laugh, followed by a "Shhh…" comes right after it, most likely from a different person. "You said you'd keep quiet," the amused voice protests lightly.

" _Tom,_ " Samantha realizes, that always-in-charge tone of his clear as day to her.

"…Just keep fucking me," someone else says desperately.

" _And Derek,_ " she tells herself, shaking her head.

She throws herself back against the mattress, pulling the covers over her shoulders again, smiling content. There were no burglars involved here. It was just Tom and Derek being… well, Tom and Derek. With a smirk, she closes her eyes and tries to go back to sleep.

"Oh, Christ. Keep doing that," Derek's voice shrieks all of a sudden.

"You like that?" Tom's lungs boom through the walls, a loud slap following his question.

"Yeah, that's it. Slap my ass."

The smacking of skin repeats, reverberating across the room.

Her eyes open again, staring at the darkness, getting an instant shot of adrenaline through her formerly dormant body.

"Harder," Derek demands, his voice breaking in between his gasps.

Low, rapid, wolf-like grunts follow, as Samantha imagines his partner's body going into overdrive, working away at getting each other off. "You take that cock," the deep tone commands him, "you take it good."

A pleading whimper. "Fuck, Tom, jerk me off, I'm so close..."

Samantha swallows back hard, her heart pumping like crazy, her own breath hitched, despite the fact that she was alone in her room.

"You gonna cum for me? You gonna be a good boy and shoot your load?" the other man asks, pushing him on.

Little grunts are all he gets for an answer, and Samantha can almost picture the two together - Tom breathing down the back of Derek's neck, his fingers grazing through Derek's beard, winding around the little black stubble stretching down his neck, holding on to him as they fuck.

The moans intensify and, stopping her breath, she hears Derek call out, knowing he's shooting string after string of cum, much to Tom's satisfaction that he's managed to get his boyfriend off so hard.

Things quiet down, and Samantha can now hear herself pant. She hadn't even realized she had been breathing so hard. She kicks the duvet off of her, feeling her body covered in sweat. There was barely any air in that room!

The woman pulls on the neckline of the shirt she's been sleeping in and raises and lowers the fabric in quick movements, trying to cool herself down. She wipes her moist palms against the sheets and turns over on her stomach, trying to get back to sleep.

Just then, she begins to hear the two voices again. They're speaking too softly for her to make out the exact words, but, by the tone of it, it almost sounds like a negotiation. One of them says something, and the other laughs, with a hint of teasing hidden in his response.

Moments later, she can hear Tom grunt quietly, his baritone voice making his "Mmm"s be heard outside of their bedroom. Soft sucking sounds accompany each exclamation, and behind Samantha's closed eyelids, she can see the image of Derek sitting on his knees by the bed, his head hovering over Tom's lap, as he services the other man's hard-on. Was he touching himself at the same time? The fleeting question goes through her mind, before she shakes off the random thought.

The background noises complete the picture, setting her imagination on fire.

" _Damn it, I need to sleep,_ " she tells herself, her better side trying to convince her to go back to dreamland. " _They're keeping me up with all this racket._ "

Somehow, though, she doesn't quite mind it. Not really. Not when she knows that those two men are enjoying each other's company just over the other side of her wall.

So she listens in.

And, slowly, she manages to fall back to sleep, a wide smile gracing her face…


	5. The World's Turned Upside Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing seems to be going Samantha's way, not even when it should be a clear win. Luckily for her, this time around, there's someone there to look out for her.

Samantha walks inside the house, slamming the front door behind her.

Derek and Tom both turn their heads, startled by the bang, cozily curled up in each other's arms on the couch.

But Samantha walks straight past them, not even giving them the time of day, her face stern, the only sound coming from her being that of her clunky Doc Martens walking up the stairs to her bedroom where, once again, another door is slammed.

"What's up with her?" Tom asks, as the two men look at each other.

"No idea," Derek says, shrugging.

A moment later and angry rock music starts blaring from her room, making the walls shake with each bass line.

"Hmm… I smell trouble," Tom says, his mouth turning into a lopsided line.

Derek sighs, nodding. "I'm gonna go check up on her."

Opening the door to her room, Derek pokes his head inside. "Hey," he says, trying to speak softly, but being forced to raise his voice due to the excessively loud music.

"Mind if I turn this down a bit?" he asks, heading towards her speakers and rotating the knob to the left.

"I tried to knock, but I don't think you heard me," he says, lying down on the mattress next to her.

Her pose - curled up in a ball, clutching her pillow between her knees and her chest, her nose hidden behind one of its corners, only watching him with gleaming eyes - somehow seems very familiar to him. He realizes it's the same stance his cat sometimes takes after he's caught her doing something bad and given her a time out. That's the look of hurt shown by someone who's just been caught off their toes.

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to disturb you guys. I didn't think about the noise I was making. Seems I keep doing everything wrong today," she says, under her breath, as she gets up to stop the music.

"Don't turn it off. I don't mind it, really," Derek says, grabbing her hand on her way up, and pulling her next to him. "You just stormed in and didn't say anything. Now what's this talk about you doing something wrong?" he asks.

Samantha takes a deep breath in, a mixture of hiccups from the fit of crying she's been trying to bottle down, and shouting from the rage seeking release pouring out of her like the angry sea caught in the middle of a storm.

"I fucked up!" she says, upset, tears welling in her eyes.

"What, darling?" he asks, trying to calm her down, yet not knowing even what the topic at hand was about.

"I went to that job interview-"

"-Oh, that was today?" he interrupts her, having wondered why she'd left the house so early that morning.

"Yeah," she says, in between sobs. "And I got kicked out. Not the 'We'll get back to you.' Not the 'We'll keep your details for future reference.' No! The 'shown to the door and told to never come back' - type of deal!"

Derek looks at her bewildered. "What on Earth happened?!"

Samantha sniffles and pulls out a balled up napkin she'd been keeping in the sleeve of her shirt. "I… You know I told you about that women's magazine that was looking for a reporter?"

"Yeah. You said they'd called you after having eliminated all those other candidates who didn't have enough experience. Is that the one?" Derek checks.

"Yes." She nods, wiping her nose. "So they called me in there today, right?"

Derek blinks quietly, allowing her to go on with her story.

"So I go in. The woman's all smiles and handshakes, shows me some of the articles I'd sent to her, that got printed in past newspapers and magazines - you know, my old stuff - and they were all highlighted in yellow, and she starts quoting her favorite parts from what I had written."

"But that's good, right?" Derek questions.

"Yeah, yeah. That's what I thought, you know? So I'm smiling, chatting her up, explaining about my volunteer work and how I wrote my dissertation paper on Feminism and why I ended up taking interest in women's shelters and writing about them online for my blog, you know?" she tells him.

Derek nods, encouraging her to continue.

"So everything was pointing in the right direction, and her speech was sounding like she was about to offer me the job. I guess it was down to me and another candidate, because she said she wanted me to come back the following day, to see how I would handle an assignment she would give me on the spot."

"Like a last stage of the recruitment test," Derek suggests.

"Yeah, exactly. So she's all 'Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then, miss. Is 10.15 a good time for you to be here or do you want to come in the afternoon, after the other lady I have in mind?'" Samantha says, using a different voice to portray the employer's tone. "And, naturally, I wanted to be the one who came in first, because I thought she might just hire the first person, if they do a good enough job, and why on earth wouldn't I want that to be me?"

"Yeah, they sometimes do that," he agrees.

"So, I open my bag and take out my organizer, and, as I start fumbling around in it to grab my pen, so I can write the time for our appointment, I hear something drop from my purse."

Derek gives her a puzzled look. What could possibly be so offensive to a potential employer? Drugs? A gun? A pair of sex handcuffs?

"And I see this horrified look on her face, so I immediately look down to see what could have disgusted her so much. And she starts yelling, as if the building was on fire, 'What is that?! Just what is that?!'" Samantha says, imitating the woman's demented voice.

"…What was it?" Derek asks, now completely enraptured with her story.

"It was my lipstick," she says, grabbing her bag and pulling out a silver tube, and showing it to him.

He takes it in his hands, turning it on all sides, before looking back at her, utterly perplexed. "I don't get it. What's the matter with it?"

"She started screaming, out of her mind, calling me a 'fake feminist', saying that I was only posing as someone who cares for the welfare of women, to get them on my side, while, in fact, I aim to please men and play into gender based roles by presenting myself as a piece of meat."

Derek shakes his head, blinking rapidly, before huffing in disbelief. "That's… whoa…"

"Yeah! So I told her that the years I've spent helping women seek physical and legal protection against their abusive husbands, fighting gender discrimination, and the speeches I've held against rape culture in colleges, in front of hundreds of people cannot be cancelled out by the swipe of a lipstick," she says, her voice shaking.

"It's ridiculous!" Derek raises his voice, getting angry himself now.

"And she was like, 'No. Someone who fights for women would never try to appease to men.'"

Derek rolls his eyes. "Ok, this lady clearly has some issues."

"And I couldn't take it anymore, you know? So I shouted, 'Who said I am even _trying_ to appease to _anyone_? You don't know my sexual preferences and, even if you did, what gives you the right to tell me that I cannot present myself in any way I see fit?' And that's when we just both lost it, I guess. Because, after that, all we did was keep yelling at each other at the top of our lungs. It had somehow gone from a job interview to a shouting contest."

"So what did she say to that?" he asks.

"Oh, she just kept bullshitting me that I only like the things that I do because men have shaped my mind to do so. I just wanted to scream, 'Asshole, I have my own brain to think and I can decide what to like by myself!', but she just… ARGH!" Samantha grits her teeth, running out of patience as she re-lives their argument.

"…So was that it?" Derek timidly adds.

"No, she kept insisting that I had been brainwashed and that my wearing makeup was hurting women. So I then asked her how," Samantha says, gesturing, as she had when she had directed the question to the woman herself. "And she said, 'By setting unrealistic standards for women to follow.'"

"Well, yeah, but…" he begins.

"No, wait," Samantha cuts him off. "So I asked, 'And not for men?'"

Derek gives her a confused look.

"She just scoffed and went, 'Of course not, it's to their _advantage_ , if anything!'"

Samantha flashes him a big grin.

"And that's when I knew I had her."

Derek raises a questioning eyebrow.

"So I said, 'And what about men in drag, then? What about cross dressers? What about all those men who love to wear high heels, spend hours in front of the mirror doing their makeup, and wear short, tight little dresses _for themselves_? What about all these men who dress up in this way that you say degrades women and feel _empowered_? Who are you to tell people how to dress or how to look, when this is one of the fundamental freedoms of any living, breathing soul?'"

"Wow!" Derek smirks and begins theatrically applauding her. "Attagirl!"

"Yeah, well… that's when she kicked me out."

"Aww, Sam…" Derek pouts and extends his arms, pulling her in for a big hug.

"Discriminated by misogynists for being a feminist, and, now… discriminated by feminists for being a feminist." Samantha sighs. "Guess I'm still nowhere near finding a well paid job yet," she mumbles, cuddled in the soft cotton of his shirt.

"Oh, who would have wanted to work for that prejudiced old hag anyway?" he says, watching her look up at him and give him a big smile.

"Thanks, Derek," she says, seeing him smile back at her.

"For what?" he asks. "I didn't do anything."

"For listening. For letting me get that off my chest. I've never had anyone be there for me before," she confesses.

"Oh, doll. That's not how we do it in this household. From now on, things are going to change. No more keeping things inside and locking yourself up. Come talk to us; share what's on your mind. Maybe we won't always have the right answer for your problem, but we will _always_ be there to listen to what you have to say."

Samantha sighs, feeling the first seed of comfort spring in her heart.

"And, you know, Tom's also there to lighten the mood with a fart joke or something," he adds, causing his house mate to suddenly burst into laughter, making her forget about her trouble.


	6. A Little Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To make up for Samantha's rough day, Derek and Tom have a little surprise in store for her.

Later that afternoon, there's another knock on the door.

Before she can even invite the other person in, Tom's already made his way inside her bedroom. "Come on, get up," he tells her.

"What? Why?" Samantha asks apathetically, spread out on the mattress.

"Because we're going on a field trip, that's why. Now get your stuff," he explains.

"Field trip? I'm not going. It's nice of the two of you to think of me, but-" she begins.

Tom instantly raises an eyebrow and puts on his best authoritative face. "…Does it look like I'm asking you? I'm _telling_ you!"

Samantha frowns, getting ready to argue with him, before she remembers who she's dealing with. If she'd turn him down, he'd probably just get Derek up here as well, for backup. And if it wasn't hard enough to turn down one nice gay man, well, saying no to two… now that was just impossible.

She mumbles something under her breath as she takes a pair of jeans in the bathroom with her to change. "Why do I even have to go?" she asks from the other side of the door.

"Because we're celebrating," Tom tells her.

"Celebrating?" Samantha asks incredulously.

"Yeah, your great achievement," he continues.

"Uh… I don't know what kind of a mixed up story Derek told you," she says, stepping out of the bathroom, "but I actually _didn't_ get the job."

"Oh, I know," Tom confirms. "That's exactly what we're celebrating. You successfully dodging the bullet of working for that nutjob," he says with a grin on his face.

Samantha raises her eyes at him, surprised, a bashful pout playing on her lips. "You guys are the best. _The best_!" she declares, rushing towards him and wrapping her arms around the back of his neck.

Tom chuckles, patting her back in his massive embrace. "Alright, alright. Now come on, he's waiting outside for us. Are you ready?"

Samantha nods enthusiastically and follows him down the stairs.

In the driveway, Derek's sitting on the backseat of his boyfriend's car, the doors open and waiting for everyone else to join him.

"You! You're behind this, aren't you?" Samantha playfully asks, wiggling her finger in front of her housemate's face, as she gets in beside him.

"Actually, it was Tom's idea," he confesses, pointing to the other man who's just finished strapping his seatbelt, as he takes the car out into the street.

Tom flashes her a smile in the driver's mirror, as she rubs his right shoulder over the seat, to express how much their gesture had touched her.

"So where are we going?" Samantha finally asks.

"Just this little green area Tom and I know. It's only about an hour's drive or so out of the city. It's our little secret getaway whenever we need to unwind a bit," Derek explains.

"And now it's gonna be your secret too," Tom adds.

"Ooh, a remote resort!" she says, mocking the mysterious air of it all.

Derek chuckles. "When you get the money for one, please let me know. I could use some spare change."

Tom laughs.

"No, no. It's just a corner of nature that's concrete-, skyscraper- and tax-free," Derek continues jokingly.

Samantha becomes slightly apprehensive after his explanation. "…We're not going to be milking cows or anything, are we?"

Tom bursts out laughing. "Milking cows?!"

"Well, I mean, I know how to do it. I used to spend my summers on my grandma's farm, after all. It's just not my idea of fun, that's all…" she tells them.

Derek smirks, but shakes his head. "No, you're safe. There will be no farm activities today."

"Just relaxation and fresh air," Tom concludes.

***

A while later, the car stops by the side of the road.

"What's wrong?" Samantha asks.

"Nothing wrong. We're here," Tom declares, taking the keys out of the ignition.

Samantha looks out the window again, but is still unconvinced. "But… these are just rows of corn."

Derek smirks. "Don't you just love how she just has to know everything, even before it happens?"

Samantha scrunches her nose at him, feigning annoyance.

"Have we ever let you down before?" Tom asks, now getting out and popping open the trunk of the car.

"Well, no…" she admits.

"Then trust us, oh, ye, of little faith," Tom continues, grabbing a tote bag and handing it to Derek, coming up behind him.

She steps out of the car and slams the door behind her.

"Here, you can carry the plates and glasses. Those shouldn't be too heavy. I just don't want to break them with everything else," he explains, taking out a large bag with a baguette sticking out of it.

He fishes out his key ring again and automatically locks the car, as they all begin to make their way on the narrow path separating two crops that the local farmers had planted in the area.

"Do you want us to set up under that cherry tree again?" Derek asks, the sound of corn leaves brushing against their clothes reminiscent of sheets of paper getting torn.

"If it's nice and shady, then yeah," Tom agrees, pushing the green plants out of his way, the silks hanging off of the tips like decorative golden tassels.

Minutes pass, the temperature rising as they trudge through what feels like a corn maze at this point, the dishes clattering as they hit Samantha's calves. "How much longer is it?"

Derek looks back at her. "We just need to go up that hill and then find our favorite spot at the very top."

She huffs, mumbling, "No one told me there would be any climbing involved."

"Would you knock it off? We'll be there in a minute. See, this is why I'm so keen on getting the two of you into shape," Tom declares.

"I thought it was just because you enjoyed being a pain in the ass," Derek suggests.

"Actually, what I-" Tom begins.

"-Don't! Don't say it," Derek cuts him off, knowing his boyfriend was getting ready to throw one of his incredibly dirty sexual innuendo comebacks at him.

Samantha laughs behind him. "With the two of you taking jabs at each other, this walk up hill suddenly doesn't seem all that unpleasant anymore."

"Don't encourage him!" Derek protests, making the other two chuckle.

Finally, they get to the spot.

"You can put that by the trunk," the taller man tells her, as he sees Derek's already placed his bag on the ground, now helping his boyfriend unfold the large blanket he's been carrying.

Samantha moves a few steps away, watching over the valley stretching down the other part of the hill. The side they had taken, facing the highway, had been claimed by the nearby inhabitants, for agricultural purposes. But, behind the hill, there was a dark green patch of forest stretching into the distance, cuckoos and other small birds echoing their songs in the serene landscape.

"What do you think?" Tom asks, pushing his fringe out of his eyes, as he walks towards her.

"…It's beautiful," she admits. "I can't believe we live so close to this. A city, right next to all this wilderness," she states, listening to the chirping of crickets hiding in the grass.

Derek smiles, as he starts going through the bags and pulling out containers filled to the brim with all kinds of homemade food. "Now you know why we like to come out here," he tells her.

"I can see why, yeah." She nods.

"Well, we're officially off the clock here. We have a rule. When we're here - no watches, no cell phones, no Internet. As long as you're under this cherry tree, you're neither late or early for anything. This is a trouble free zone, so," Tom tells her, kicking off his shoes, "make yourself comfortable, sit down, and relax. By the time we get out of here, it will feel better than all the paid shrink hours you could get, and your body will feel lighter than after any spa treatment you could buy."

Derek chuckles. "…That is, unless you consider all the goodies you're going to be having," he says, as he begins to take the lid off of a plastic see-through box full of fresh figs. "We like to stack up on food from this fresh farmer's market that's only open Fridays to Sundays."

"It's kind of a pop-up market concept. Organic farmers and local food artisans get together in a different part of the city each week, to try and introduce people to natural and exciting cooked food. Very cool stuff, really," Tom explains.

"Sounds interesting. So how do you know where they're going to be next?" Samantha asks.

"They've got an online cult-following, almost," Derek says, smirking. "They're on Facebook and Twitter, so they always give out their location a day in advance, so people know where to find them. And it really pays off to keep an eye out for them. I mean," he begins, handing her a piece of matured cheese and breaking a crunchy chunk of freshly baked baguette for her, "just try this. Have it with a few grapes or even some figs. It is to die for!"

She takes the tempting offering from him and pairs it with the glass-like bead of a white grape. "Mmm… this is exquisite!" she declares.

"Told you," Tom agrees, making himself a little sandwich out of the smoked acorn-fed ham, some fresh salad rocket leaves, and halved cherry tomatoes.

For a while, the group goes quiet, as there's simply no room for words to come out of their happy mouths, as they indulge on the quirky recipes used by the talented cooks who had made the dishes they were trying out.

Every so often, the wind blows, lifting the corners of their blanket, making them spontaneously play a game of musical chairs just to make sure that their entire picnic setting wouldn't float away on Aladdin's magic carpet ride.

"Ugh, I don't think I have room for a single cupcake. And those are my favorite!" Derek says regretfully, eyeing the white frosting covered in colorful sprinkles just mocking him in their perfect confectionery box.

"Good," Tom declares. "The last thing _you_ need is a sugar overdose."

"Are you calling me hyperactive?" Derek says, pushing his boyfriend's shoulder playfully.

Tom smirks, raising his hands in defense.

"Sam, I'm not hyperactive, am I?" he asks, calling her for help.

"Well…" she begins hesitantly.

"You bastards! Just because I don't need to take afternoon naps or go to bed with the chickens, does not mean that I have too much energy," Derek protests.

"…Did you just call me a chicken?" Tom jokes.

Samantha has a hearty laugh over the remarks.

"Alright, you old farts, I'll race you down to the creek," Derek challenges them.

"Where is that?" she asks.

"Just downhill, into the forest," Tom explains, as the two men begin to take their shirts off. "Come on, it'll be fun," he tells her. "We go swimming there every time."

"Uh… I don't have a bathing suit with me," Samantha explains awkwardly.

The guys stop and look at each other for a second.

"Shit, I didn't think about it when we left," Tom confesses, rubbing the back of his head.

Derek shakes his head, waving his hand dismissively. "Just go without one. All we do here is skinny dip and it's never been a problem. Plus, once you're in the water, you won't even care," he reassures her.

"I… I don't think I can. I just wouldn't feel comfortable," she says, embarrassed.

Derek sighs, picking his shirt off the ground and dusting it off, slightly deflated. "Okay, it's not a problem. We can stay here."

"No, no. You guys go. I'll be on duty to guard the food while you're away," she encourages them.

"You sure?" Derek asks, feeling guilty.

"Yeah, don't worry about it. Now go on," she shoos them away.

"Ok, we won't be long," Tom says, as they're both left in their underwear, making their way down the tall grass.

"Hey," Derek shouts back at her. "If you're thirsty, check my bag. I got some French wine for us. There's red and there's white in there too. Didn't know which one you'd like," he says, as they reach the bottom of the hill.

"Alright. Make sure the water's not too cold before going in, though. You know… the whole issue with _shrinkage_ and whatnot…" Samantha yells back at him, jokingly.

In the distance, she can see the two men look at each, as they shake their heads and laugh, before they begin their race towards the refreshing creek they were looking forward to.


	7. A Little Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...A Little (Too Much) Wine perhaps?

The two men slowly make their way back, the climb up the hill now taking significantly more effort than their tumble down it did. The sun's almost set, an abstract painting of deep purple, pink, oranges and yellows stretching above them. Wide, knowing smiles play on their faces, their skin cold and still glistening from the fresh creek water.

They'd stayed in the water until their finger tips started to look like the raisins dotting the half eaten cookies Derek had left behind on his picnic plate.

Tom swings an arm around Derek's shoulders, as they hike their way up the narrow trail, pulling him in. They smile over each other's lips and share a lazy kiss. They hadn’t been doing anything while skinny dipping, really.

But the way the water kept winding around their naked bodies, how Derek liked to hang on to Tom's back and use him as a human float, the way the heat of Tom's mouth felt on his cool skin, trailing down his neck, the two of them naked in that little corner of Paradise, half hidden, half revealed, with nothing but their bodies to offer each other… It was enough to make even the most cold-blooded man feel his veins dripping hot with desire.

"Mmm…" Derek mumbles into the kiss, barely getting to tear himself away from his partner's mouth. "Be good. I only just managed to keep my act together, and now you're hard at it to get me worked up again."

"I'll show you what else is hard once we get home," Tom teases him, his beard grazing Derek's mouth, before he playfully grabs the other man's lower lip between his teeth, holding him captive, and then licking it mischievously again.

"Damn. Come on, we're almost there. We just need to pack everything up and then…" Derek begins.

"Hey, Sam, you'd better have saved some of those cupcakes for me too. You and Mr. Sweet Tooth here just made me crave something sugary real bad and now…" Tom says, as he reaches the top of the hill.

"…Sam?" Derek asks, finally catching up to the other man and reaching the picnic spot they had abandoned. "Hey, girl, you asleep?"

"Uh… what did you say you brought to go with the food?" Tom questions, hesitantly.

"What, wine?" Derek replies, failing to see what was unusual about pairing cheese and cakes with it.

"Red," Tom says, raising an empty bottle in his right hand, "and white?" he continues, raising another in his left.

"No!... Empty?" Derek says in disbelief.

"Yep. Man, how long were we gone for?" the other guy asks.

"Well, gee, I didn't exactly keep a timer in my non-existing pocket as I was… you know… naked?" the brunette replies sarcastically, as he picks up his pile of clothes, going through his pockets. He finally finds his cell phone. "Shit! Over three and a half hours, really?!"

"Poor girl. No wonder she got bored. It wasn't exactly like we left her with a whole bunch of options for what to do while we were gone…" Tom says, feeling guilty.

"… She could have just taken a nap... or a walk or something…" Derek says, getting back into his clothes.

Tom chuckles. "Well, she _is_ napping now… kinda."

"Getting her passed out wasn't my idea of a fun day to cheer her up," the brunette says, shaking his head, as he looks at the girl sleeping away on the large blanket they had laid out over the grass.

"At least it made her bad day go by faster." Tom smirks.

Derek rolls his eyes. "What should we do now?"

"What else can we do? Pack up and take her home."

"Great, and I'll have to carry even more stuff, now that Sleeping Beauty's out of the game," the brunette complains.

"Quit fussing. We've eaten most of the food… she'd done her part in making sure there aren't any liquids to bring back, at least," he adds with a smirk, "so there's just dirty dishes and empty tupperware to take back to the car."

Derek frowns, holding his hand up and counting on his fingers. "And the blanket, and helping her walk all the way there… and…"

Tom leans over and gives his partner a reconciling kiss. "Come on, I'll help you pack it all up. You can take it all, you're a big guy," he adds, giving him a little spank. "I'll carry her. You're both coming back to my place tonight. No point in driving all the way back to your house."

His lover softens up, Tom always knowing how to handle him and make peace with him. "Oh, alright. But I'm telling her that you were the one who insisted we do laps after I had already told you it was late, down at the creek."

Tom laughs loudly. "Glad to know you're afraid of this little 5.5 ft monster waking up," he says, picking Samantha up in his arms and watching her sleep away serenely, without as much as a single flinch as he begins to carry her back.

Setting all the bags in the trunk once more, Tom tosses Derek the keys.

His partner looks at him questioningly.

"You're driving. I'm gonna stay in the back and keep an eye on her."

Derek nods and takes the front seat, readjusting the mirror and changing the radio station.

"I hate it when you do that," Tom says, annoyed that all of the finely tuned details of his car's interior got messed up every time the other man got behind the wheel.

"Yeah, but you love me," Derek says smugly, starting the car.

"Jerk," Tom answers, chuckling.

The drive back to the city is quiet, Tom's overprotective nature being the only reason behind him insisting to stay with the young woman as she slept her drunkenness away.

She turns in her sleep, a long strand of hair falling over her eyes. The dark blond haired man gently pushes it away, not wanting her breathing to be restricted or for her to feel any sort of discomfort as she rests.

"Her hair is so damn soft. Have you ever felt it?" Tom says, running his fingers through Samantha's loose waves.

"I don't really go around sticking my hand into people's hair without permission," Derek replies from behind the wheel.

"Well, maybe you should. Hers feels fucking fantastic," Tom insists. Sensing her stir in his lap, he decides to take advantage of the opportunity and jokingly whispers, "Hey, princess. How do you get your hair to be this soft?"

Still deep asleep, Samantha can't make sense of anything, apart from the low humming sound coming from above her, like a persistent mosquito determined not to let her rest.

"Samanthaaaa?" Tom asks gently, in a sing song voice.

"Fairies," the woman mumbles incoherently to no one in particular, before turning over and nuzzling her face against the warmth radiating from Tom's stomach, through his zip up hoodie, her eyes still closed, as she's just found her perfect cocoon.

The man howls with laughter, his body shaking with amusement, disturbing Samantha's head resting in his lap. "Fairies!" he shouts to Tom, "Did you hear her? This one's full of sass even when she's fast asleep," he says in appreciation of the exhausted girl whimpering like an upset child as he tries to find a better position for her against his body.

***

It's hot. Too hot, she thinks, kicking the uncomfortable blanket off of her and sticking a leg out, dangling over the edge.

…Over the edge of what?!

She instantly rises on her elbows, peering through what seems like the inside of a pitch dark room.

…A room… What room? Where was she?!

Her head begins to spin the moment she gets up, a bitter taste lingering in her mouth as she swallows, licking her cracked lips.

The last thing she remembers is she was watching the sky, drinking that good wine that Derek had brought - fuck… Derek. The picnic… That's right. She was waiting for the guys to come back, but they never did.

Or, maybe they did, since she was home.

…Was this home? she asks herself, trying to make out at least the shape and position of the furniture - anything really -, just so she could tell she was safe, back home.

She reaches out for the outline of a lamp and feels around for the button to turn it on. She instantly regrets her decision, as the light hits her mercilessly, forcing her to shield her eyes as she winces.

At least now she can see the weird sculptures randomly placed around the room, with fitness magazines scattered all over the coffee table laid out before what - she now realizes - is the extension sofa she's been sleeping on.

" _Tom's place,_ " she realizes.

An empty trash can is set next to the sofa, by her pillow. Someone had been thoughtful enough to consider that she might need to puke at some point during the night.

She pulls a face at the mere thought of being sick and rubs her tired eyes, feeling guilty about drinking so much during their outing.

A tall glass of water was waiting for her as well, by the lamp.

" _Well, this is the best get-shitfaced aftercare I've ever received, that's for sure,_ " she thinks, grabbing the glass and eyeing it for a second, before deciding she'd rather have a cool drink instead of the lukewarm water that wouldn't make her feel the least bit better right now.

Slowly, she makes her way through the house, attempting to figure out where the kitchen was, making as little noise as possible, afraid she might wake up everyone else.

Walking towards the window, she can see the water tap sticking out in the dark, and, dumping the contents of the glass she's holding, she replaces it with some fresh water. She begins to drink from it straight away, feeling incredibly thirsty, her mouth rough and acidic, as if someone had been scraping her tongue with sandpaper all night.

Just then, the lights go on, and she almost chokes on her drink, coughing alarmed.

"Shit!" A hiss is heard, and, as she turns around, she catches the man hastily grab the roll of paper towels off the countertop, covering his bareness with it.

"What the fuck?! Derek!!!" the woman yells, shocked.

"Jesus! I didn't know you were up," he mumbles, completely taken by surprise.

"I just got up to get some water… what the… why are you naked?!" she asks, her hand placed over her eyes, not intending to pay attention to her roommate standing in the buff before her.

"I… uh… we… well, Tom was painting and… one thing led to another… you know how these things are," he begins, laughing awkwardly, as he uses his free hand to rub the back of his neck.

"Well, great, that's just great. It's really lovely. It's really great and lovely, you know? But could you put something on the next time you decide to stroll around the house after… 'it'?"

Derek pauses for a moment, a sarcastic smile forming on his lips, as Samantha finally opens her eyes to talk to him, sticking her arm out as she uses her hand as a shield to censor the sight of the man's private parts from her range of view.

"Are we really adults calling sex 'it' now?" He smirks.

"Oh, grow up," Samantha says, rolling her eyes, "you know what I mean. And you're missing my point."

"No, I'm not," he reassures her. "Wear underwear outside the bedroom, got it," he says with a wink.

She smiles. "Okay, now turn around so I don't see you as I make my way out of the kitchen."

"What, you don't like my paper towels?" he asks, jokingly stroking the large cardboard tube he's cradling in his lap in a lewd gesture.

"Christ," Samantha mutters under her breath, shaking her head.

"Hey, how are you feeling, by the way?" he says more seriously, just before she leaves the kitchen.

"Oh, you mean aside from feeling like there's an elephant sitting on my face? Just peachy," she retorts.

"Face sitting, huh? Girl, I always knew you were kinky!" Derek teases her.

Samantha just walks away, dismissively waving her hand in the air at his joke.

Returning to the sofa bed she had been assigned, she lays back down, turning the little lamp off.

"Thank God today's over. Too much weirdness for just one day."

***

Going back in the bedroom, Derek tosses the paper towels to Tom, splayed out naked on the wooden floor.

"Walked into Sam in the kitchen," Derek says wryly.

"Noooo," Tom exclaims, as his jaw drops, before howling with laughter. "Did she see you?!"

"No, she didn't see me. Every time I get naked, I get this superpower to become invisible to people I choose myself," Derek replies sarcastically, furrowing his brows. "Of course she saw me!"

Tom continues to chuckle, his eyes wide with disbelief. "What did she say?"

"What could she? She just looked away and asked me to wear shorts next time. Jesus!"

Tom pulls the other naked man down over him, his fingers curling, caressing Derek's jaw, as he tries to coax him into getting over the earlier incident.

"She'll be fine," he tells him, slowly kissing up his neck. "Now where were we?"

Derek closes his eyes, feeling his partner's moist lips suck on his jugular.

"Mmm… we were… ahhh… I got your… mmm, damn… weren't we supposed to clean up that paint before it dries?" he mumbles, in between pleasurable gasps, remembering the mess they made playfully wrestling on the floor, naked, while Tom was trying to work on his painting.

"Fuck it. I bet the floor's gonna look better with a bit of color on it anyway," Tom says, before lifting Derek's mouth up to his and slipping his tongue in between the other man's parting lips.

"But the paint…" Derek protests weakly, his voice getting lost as the other man sips kisses out of the hollows where his shoulders meet his neck.

"It's harmless," Tom says, getting off of him and reaching out for the display stand where his unfinished canvas lays waiting, and grabs the brush he'd been using, still covered in red.

Slowly, he gets back over Derek, straddling him, and begins to draw a sinuous line down his stomach, leaving a deep scarlet trail behind on the other man's milky white skin.

Derek smirks, looking down, watching Tom continue his earlier inspiration, using his body as his raw material now. "That tickles…"

Tom smiles, and pulls his color palette near them. The soft bristles hover in the air for a second before he chooses a deep blue next. Gentle strokes line Derek's sides now in Mattise's blue, as Tom's artistic vision seems to be on fire, his partner's body only fueling his motivation to create.

Derek wraps his arms around the back of the blonde's neck and pulls him down, kissing him hard. "Let me try that," he asks, taking the brush out of the other man's hand.

Raising on his elbow, he swirls the tip in vivid yellow, before taking it up to his lover and letting it gradually cover his shoulders in a golden shroud.

"…It's cold," Tom murmurs, smiling at the way his boyfriend seems to be taking his time painting on him.

"Hush," Derek tells him. "Canvases aren't supposed to talk," he complains humorously.

Tom laughs, crushing his lips over Derek's playful mouth, their tongues swirling and tasting each other.

Their bodies rub together, transferring color from one another, as their cocks touch, causing them to gasp in between their kisses.

Derek wraps his legs around Tom's waist, making them lose their balance, and Derek reaches out to keep from falling, his hand landing over the color palette they've been using.

They both look at his messy hand for a second, and Derek smirks, swiping his fingers down Tom's back, leaving a lively rainbow of random colors behind.

"You're quite the little artist tonight, aren't you?" Tom asks, nipping on the other man's lower lip.

"Nothing little about me," Derek says smugly, taking hold of Tom's hand and placing it over his erection, letting him feel his excitement.

"Mmm… I definitely want me some of that," the blonde says, sliding over his lover's body, kissing down his stomach.

Derek runs his hand down the back of other man's neck and shoulders, watching him, in anticipation.

His brown eyes looking up, Tom slowly licks the narrow line of curls trailing down to the other man's happy spot.

Swallowing in excitement, Derek's mouth parts involuntarily, starting to breathe heavier by the second.

Tom grabs his lover's cock and teasingly begins to place light, feathery kisses over the engorged head.

Derek bites his lip, feeling the other man's warm breath softly tickle his pubis.

Taking his time, Tom licks the brunette's shaft, sliding his tongue from the base of his hard-on all the way to the tip.

"Fuck, yeah," Derek mumbles, his eyes slipping closed.

Tom watches him, his mouth opening, as he allows the length of the brunette's cock to slip inside his welcoming mouth.

"Ohhh," Derek exclaims, his middle rising slightly off the floor, feeling his partner's lips accommodate him snugly between their wet warmth.

Tom's mouth slides on and off of him, allowing the man on top to catch little glimpses of his cock glistening with his lover's spit, only turning him on more, making him push deeper into his mouth.

"Mmph," Tom mumbles, humming over Derek's cock, as he begins touching himself while pleasuring his partner, his need too insistent to ignore.

"…That's so good," Derek says, his fingers pulling on Tom's hair, whose head continues to bob up and down dutifully in his lap.

Tom's mouth pulls off for a moment, and the brunette immediately kneels in front of him, occupying his lips yet again - this time with insatiable kisses.

"Turn around," Tom demands, holding on to his partner's shoulders, as he spins on the floor. Taking his hand to his mouth, he licks his middle finger, then trails it down the other man's back.

Derek obediently spreads his legs in his kneeling position, feeling Tom's dexterous digits slide down his crack.

Teasingly, the blond begins to circle his entrance, his lustful deep breathing nothing short of an aphrodisiac to the other man's ears.

Relaxing into his touch, Derek grants him entrance, as Tom's middle finger slowly slips inside of him, opening him up.

Derek frowns at the first feeling of momentary discomfort, having Tom murmuring words of encouragement to him.

"I wanna get inside you so bad," Tom tells him, kissing down his neck.

Derek whimpers in response, but his body gives in, finally allowing Tom's middle finger to slide all the way to his knuckle.

"…Fuck me, Tom, fuck me," he asks desperately, his body set ablaze by Tom's expert touch.

Without saying a word, the taller man pushes him forward, making him keep himself up on his hands and knees. Taking a small plastic bottle off the desk, he squeezes a long curl of lube in his palms, rubbing them together.

While his left palm coats his cock with it, he uses his right to spread the slick substance over Derek's hole.

Slapping Derek's ass with his stiffness, Tom begins to rub his cock down Derek's crack, feeling the other man eagerly push back into him. A motion of Derek's hips later, he enters him all, his thick shaft slowly slipping inside his welcoming entrance.

"Jesus… fuck…" Derek moans, his arms going limp, as his upper body collapses on the floor, Tom's strong hands holding on to his hips.

"Yeahhh…" Tom grunts, feeling the brunette's tightness lock around him.

The shorter man begins to push his body back and forth, mimicking the motion his partner's doing as he thrusts into him, the room drowned in silence, their rough gasps echoing against the walls.

"Deeper, baby, deeper," Derek demands, feeling his partner tease him, only letting the head of his cock work its way inside.

Tom smirks and slams back into him with a vengeance, loving to hear the pleasurable sounds leaving his boyfriend's body. "You like that, huh?"

Derek moans hard, letting Tom fuck him into oblivion, his nails scratching the hardwood floor, feeling his body immaterialize.

Pushing all of his bodyweight into him, Tom makes him drop on the floor, pulling out of him, as he turns him around in his arms. Grinning mischievously as they kiss, he grabs the brush they'd abandoned earlier and dips it in green.

Laid out on his back now, Derek tries to catch his breath, but steals the brush out of the other man's hand.

Tom looks down, trying to make out the abstract figures that are getting painted on his chest.

The brunette swirls the bristles around each of Tom's nipples, teasing them with the wet tip, until they harden under the pleasurable contact.

They kiss, both of their chests now turning green as they press against each other, the cold water in the paint doing little to cool their burning bodies.

"God damn, you turn me on so much," Tom mumbles over his lips, as they look in each other's eyes.

"…Show me," Derek replies, his voice dripping with lust.

No other incentive needed, the blond hooks his hands around the other man's thighs and pulls him onto his lap. Taking control of him once more, he goes inside of him, pumping into him at an even pace.

"Yeah, fuck my ass," Derek spurs him on, holding on to Tom's strong grip on him.

The tall man grunts, finding it harder and harder to hold on, but wanting to please his partner more than himself. Grabbing the colored brush, he sticks it in the purple case, taking it back to Derek's body, where he begins to paint the color on his cock, turning the angry red from his engorged head into an unexpected shade of violet.

His hips keep pumping, rhythmically banging into the other man's supple body, making him whimper each time he can hear the sound of his balls slapping against Derek's ass.

Losing focus, he begins to dip the brush at random, bringing it back to Derek whose dick gets turned into a modern artistic expression of their lovemaking, covered in a myriad of colors.

The soft brush strokes counteract Tom's merciless shoves into Derek's yielding body, making his dick swell and pound away, seeking release.

"So… mmm… so close," Derek barely manages to mutter.

Tom needs no further instruction and immediately begins to stroke the other man's cock, the vibrant paint now turning into a makeshift lubricant, as his closed fist furiously slides up and down his length pulsing in his hand.

Synchronizing the pumping of his hips with the timing in which he's jerking off his lover, Tom bites his lip hard, counting down the seconds, waiting for the brunette's reaction.

A broken gasp later, Derek's face contorts with pleasure, shooting string after string of white over the abstract paintings gracing both of their stomachs, as Tom now cries out his own release, cumming inside of him.

A few last thrusts, before he's finally spent, and Tom crashes over Derek, pulling out of him and breathing hard, satisfied.

Looking at him, an afterglow smirk playing on his lips, Derek tells him, "You know, I think your art's starting to grow on me…"


	8. Partners in Crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doing good somehow ends up badly.

The following morning, Samantha wakes up. Warily, she sneaks a peek inside Tom's bedroom, the door left wide open.

The only thing there is a huge mess of art supplies scattered all over the place, and what looks like a paint explosion covering the floor and bed sheets.

She shakes her head, smirking. " _These guys... you just can't leave them alone with each other without them going at it like rabbits._ "

Cautiously, she enters the kitchen, hoping she won't repeat last night's little unfortunate encounter with one of her roommates walking around naked, forgetting that they'd also brought her over.

She's relieved to see that the coast is clear, no trace of the men anywhere in sight.

She hasn't heard them leaving the apartment... "Where _is_ everyone?!"

Walking down the hallway, she can hear the shower running.

She nods to herself, finally having located one of them.

Samantha goes back to the fold out couch she's been sleeping on and grabs the remote from the coffee table. Flipping through the channels, she finally settles on the news.

Twenty minutes later, the news anchors conclude the morning edition, wishing their viewers a great day.

She's already flipped through all of the boring fitness magazines Tom's stacked by the sofa, gone through his art portfolio folder that he's been trying to put together, now ending up watching a soap opera in Spanish, of all things - with absolutely no interest for bad television or any knowledge of the foreign language.

Her pressing bladder makes her impatient and she gets up, knocking on the bathroom door. She cracks the door only enough for her voice to be heard.

"Umm, I don't mean to be a nag, but do you think you're going to be much longer in there? I really have to pee."

Derek chuckles.

"Sorry, I figured you'd still be asleep."

Tom's voice soon follows his.

"Yeah, didn't know you needed it."

Samantha gasps.

"Are... are both of you in there?"

A moment of silence, before both men laugh softly.

"-Yes," they both answer in unison.

"Well, no wonder it was taking you forever! If you're not taking a shower, then can you please take _that_ to another room? My bladder's killing me!" she pleads with them.

"Actually, we _are_ showering. Dry paint is a bitch to get off of skin," Derek interjects.

Samantha cringes.

"...Guys! Please!"

Tom sighs.

"Why don't you just come in? We're over the other side of the shower curtain anyway, and no one's going to look."

The woman grunts, frustrated.

"I don't want to do-," she begins, opening the door slightly wider, only to be faced with the image of the two men standing naked in the tub, Tom's hands rubbing away patches of dry color off of Derek's back.

"UGH! ...the fuck! You guys! The shower curtain is _see-through_!!!"

Tom shrugs.

"I never said it wasn't."

"Okay, OUT!" Samantha shouts, grabbing two towels from the rack and shoving them towards the flesh-toned silhouettes standing on the other side of the transparent layer of plastic.

Derek sighs, pushing his partner out.

"Alright, alright. Let her have her privacy."

***

A few weeks later, everything's back to normal, and Samantha's just finishing a busy day at the magazine she volunteers her time for every month.

She shakes hands with the local singer who's just kindly donated all the money she's earned from her latest concert to the women's shelter Samantha keeps an eye on.

It was rare for Samantha to get to hear positive stories at the shelter, but, whenever there was a chance to show women that there was hope and a better future out there, she always made sure to share the success stories of inspirational people who wanted to help.

"Tammy, thank you for your extremely kind donation this month. You have no idea how desperately we needed funds for more beds, as well as for supplies in our soup kitchen. I'm going to mail you a copy of the interview the day before it gets sent out for printing. It has been an absolute pleasure hearing just how far you've made it, and I am sure other women who were previously trapped in abusive relationships will look to you for inspiration."

The country singer bows her head, humbled, smiling at the woman.

"I just want everyone out there to know there is hope. It _does_ get better, no matter how impossible it may seem right now," Tammy says, shaking Samantha's hand.

Saying their good byes, Samantha walks out of the building, closing her folder with the questions she had prepared, checking that she didn't leave her recorder behind, intending to go back home and transcribe the interview, and maybe even start working on the article, if she still had the energy to at least write down the introduction, before going to bed.

Feeling like having something sweet, but healthy to snack on when she gets home, she decides to first make a little detour to the local fruit market and pick up a few things, maybe even get something for the guys, as well.

Having gone through the hustle and bustle of the busy market, Samantha steps out, twenty minutes later, now holding a bag containing a couple of oranges, bananas, some large grapes, and a few ripe avocados - as she knew they were Derek's favorite.

She crosses the street, heading for the subway, when she starts hearing people chant, " _Shut down Perfectisima!_ " over and over again.

She walks a few steps further, watching a large crowd gathered around the gates of an inconspicuous looking building that in no way stood out from any of the other industrial real estate in the neighborhood.

The group keeps shouting slogans, to make itself heard, all the voices repeating powerful lines together.

" _Beauty is not torture!_ " they yell out next, Samantha watching the mixture of young people with their hair dyed in vivid, loud colors, older, hippie-styled couples, and men who have obviously participated in the support of causes they believed strongly in all of their lives. They all wave large banners in the air, some of them holding cardboard signs they'd made themselves, stating, " _Animal abuse does not make me pretty,_ " while others hand out flyers to passers-by, containing precious information of all the horrible things going on behind the closed gates of the building.

Samantha taps the shoulder of a woman angrily shouting her complaints at the impassive guards standing by the entrance.

"Hey, what's going on? What's this protest about?"

The girl turns to her, her face red and hardened from her deeply rooted sense of outrage at what was happening.

"We got informed that Perfectisima is a company that uses animal testing for all of its products, despite the fact that it advertises itself as being 'Cruelty free'. Here," she says, grabbing a pamphlet from one of her friends and handing it to Samantha, "just have a look at the pictures one of our inside sources was able to take in just one of the rooms in their laboratories."

Samantha reads the facts about the number of animals killed over the course of a month by the toxic substances contained by the new ingredients the personal-care product company was experimenting with. Turning over the pamphlet, she is horrified to see photos of rabbits with seeping red eyes, the inflammation caused by a line of mascara that never made it on the shelves, a rat with burns all over its back from new fragrances of perfume they were working on, and other animals that were kept alive only to be subjected to even more torture on a daily basis.

"I feel like throwing up," Samantha says, lifting her hand towards her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes.

"If you do get sick, please do it all over those assholes in uniform, keeping us from going in their offices and lynching the guy behind all this, who's proud to have managed to keep this place a secret, while money kept pouring in his pocket."

Samantha is livid. "Got any more of those signs?" she asks, her blood boiling.

The other woman gives her a friendly smile and nods. "You can grab the other end of the banner, if you want to join us."

" _Keep Ardenco in a cage and swatch your lipsticks on him,_ " the sign Samantha picks up says, accusing the man holding the business of being a liar for stating that, even though he may have not been truthful about doing animal testing, at least the animals were being well taken care of.

***

It's early morning, and Tom picks up the stack of junk mail piling up on Derek's coffee table, sorting through it, wanting to make sure that he wasn't about to throw away any important letters.

"Hey, I'm going to take these to the recycling bin, on my way out. Are there any of these old catalogues you want to still look over?"

Derek stops sweeping the floor and leans on his broom, throwing a quick glance over the pile of papers Tom's holding in his hand.

"Nah, just throw them all out. I just keep stacking them there for months, and then completely forget about them."

Tom smirks.

"I know you do. That's why I come in here and do a bit of tidying up every once in a while.

I'm sure they'd find your corpse buried under a pile of supermarket deals and newspaper subscriptions if I weren't around."

Derek rolls his eyes.

"Yes, what would the world do without you?"

The sound of the key going in the lock, and then a tired-looking Samantha steps in, talking to a girl behind her.

"I'll just be a minute, okay?" Samantha tells her.

Both men turn towards the hallway, looking at them.

"Well, well... looks like the party girl's finally returned," Tom says, amused.

Samantha sighs, too exhausted to be in the mood to make sense of the guys' remarks.

"Spending the whole night out. _Someone_ must've had a lot of fun," Derek tells her with a smirk.

Samantha looks at them, tired.

"I spent the night in jail. That's not exactly what I would call a fun time," she responds drily.

They watch her in disbelief, jaws dropped.

"What?! What did you get yourself into this time?"

"I accidentally ran into a group of protesters outside the fruit market - shit, I forgot my fruit at the station!" she hisses, hitting her forehead. "...To hell with them. I hope the whole place gets covered in fruit flies after those things start rotting in custody."

"Hey, Sam, nevermind the fruit. What happened?" Derek asks, concerned.

"Oh, yeah. So I found a bunch of people protesting on Franklin Street. Did you guys know there's a cosmetics company that has its laboratories set up out there?"

The two men look at each other and shake their heads.

"No?" Tom says.

"Well, there is. And it tests on animals. These people on the street showed me some of the gruesome things that go on behind those closed doors - tortured mice, dead animals, blind rabbits..."

Tom shudders.

"Jesus! How can they get away with that?"

"They shouldn't. That's why I wanted to help the people standing outside, yelling for the place to get shut down.

Except..."

"...Except?" Derek says, wanting her to continue.

"The company bastards called the cops, and we all got to spend the night in jail because, apparently, we didn't have permission from the city hall to protest."

Tom looks at her, surprised.

"You're kidding me."

Samantha sighs.

"I wish I were. I'm sure the management of that God awful laboratory has ties with the police in this city anyway, so they would've done anything to take us away.

But apparently there still are some decent people in the world, because - oh, damn - I forgot to introduce you."

She gestures for the girl to come over.

"Guys, this is Mary. Mary, this is Derek, and his partner, Tom."

"How do you do?" she says, extending her hand.

The guys shake her hand and smile at her.

"She was our only protector. She had to wait until morning for all of our paperwork to be ready, even though she had come in and deposited the money to bail us out before midnight."

"Wait... you bailed out _all_ of the protesters?" Derek asks, surprised that someone would be so generous.

"Aww, there ain't anything to it. I had some money saved for rainy days, and when my pa ran into the Chief yesterday evening - they used to play little league together back when they were kids, before they each became a pastor and a policeman -, and I heard that he was off to arrest some people protesting for animal rights, I knew I had to do something," the girl tells them.

"Isn't she the nicest person ever?" Samantha says, smiling behind her.

"That's really an amazing gesture for you to do for a bunch of complete strangers. There aren't a lot of people like you out there these days," Tom tells her, impressed.

"Hey, Mary? I'm gonna go upstairs to get the rest of the money to pay you back for my bail, okay? Be right back," Samantha informs her.

"I told her she doesn't need to do that!" Mary says, shaking her head, as she's left alone with the men.

"She's really strict when it comes to being fair. I don't think she could sleep at night knowing that she owes someone," Derek jokes about it.

"Now see... I never help out people, looking for something in return. I just want that person to help out someone else in need," Mary points out. "It's what the Lord would have wanted. Help thy brethren. And I'm sure He wanted us, humans, to help animals as well. They're innocent creatures that were put on this earth. We have no right over their lives. Only God does."

Tom and Derek exchange a silent glance.

"You're... you're right. Animals have done nothing wrong. I feel really sad that there are people out there who don't love them and aren't interested in taking care of them."

Derek nods.

"Yeah, animals have that sense of love and innocence that we, as people, seem to have lost. That you can maybe only find in really young children nowadays. You know, just unconditional affection, and the desire to spread happiness."

Mary smiles widely.

"Hearing you boys talk just makes my heart sing. I'm so glad to know that a nice girl like Samantha has kind friends like you."

"Hey, listen. Would you like a cup of coffee maybe? Anyone who's helped one of us out in a jam is more than welcomed to stay for breakfast," Tom offers.

"Yeah, I'd like that." The woman nods, welcoming the invitation after having spent the entire night in the cold waiting room at the police station.

Derek brings out cups for everyone, while Tom pours her a steaming mug of black liquid.

"So, what kind of business do the two of you run?" Mary asks, sipping on her hot coffee.

"Business?" Derek asks, confused.

"Samantha said you were partners," Mary replies.

Derek looks at Tom, bursting out laughing.

"Oh! We're not _that_ kind of partners!"

"No? I figured you have some sort of a small furniture shop around, or something. A lot of men here like to work with wood," she tells them.

Tom smirks.

"Yes, we like to get involved with, uh... wood... sometimes."

Derek elbows him in the side, giving him a mean look.

"What he's trying to say is that we don't own a business together.

Tom is my boyfriend."

The girl's eyebrows shoot up, shocked.

"Well... I...

Samantha never told me about your... inclinations."

Tom looks at her skeptically.

"It probably never came up."

"Is Samantha also a... you know... a homosexual?" Mary asks.

Derek cocks an eyebrow.

"Sam? I don't know. I don't think so."

"But then how does she...? I mean, how can she share a house with you if she's not... not... like you?"

Tom shifts his weight from one foot to the next.

"Being gay doesn't require a club membership, you know? We're all just people sharing one roof - the fact that any of us is straight or gay doesn't influence the bills or the way we wake up in the morning."

She frowns.

"If you don't care about your lives, then you should at least think about hers," Mary tells them.

"Excuse me?..." Tom says incredulously.

"You are condemning her own wellbeing in the afterlife by letting her be associated with what you're doing," she hisses at them.

"Now listen here..." Derek begins, pointing a finger in her direction.

"She is obviously a kind, well intentioned girl. What the two of you do is your own business, but she should not have to suffer for your choices."

"You're right. It _is_ their business. Which means neither you nor anyone else gets to have a say in how they live their lives," Samantha declares, now reaching the bottom of the stairs, having overheard their conversation.

"But what you're wrong about is that this isn't a ' _choice_ ' for them. They didn't 'decide' or 'turn' gay one morning. It's who they are and who they always were. Condemning them for that makes about as much sense as me holding the fact that you were born with brown hair, or that you aren't as short as I am, against you."

"Even if they were born this way, like you say, they should still not act on it. It is wrong and unnatural for two men to be together," Mary objects.

"Hold on. So, you think that animals should have the _right_ to be free and live their lives in a happy, healthy environment.

But, at the same time, you don't think two consenting, adult, same sex people have the _right_ to be free, to love each other, and live in conditions that guarantee their safety and wellbeing, just like any other citizen?"

"You're making a parallel that isn't doing me any justice," Mary complains.

"Wanna talk about justice? How about acknowledging the fact that ALL people are entitled to benefit from the same rights the second they are born in this world, no matter their race, gender or sexuality? Or do you think justice only applies to white preacher's daughters who have connections in high places throughout the city?" Samantha replies, raising her tone.

"You have no right to talk to me that way," Mary says, her voice faltering.

"Let's not talk about rights, sweetheart, since you clearly don't care about anyone else's but your own. Now take your fucking money back," Samantha says, shoving a wad of bills into the other woman's chest, "and get the hell out of our house, you hateful bigot."

The girl grabs the money and huffs, storming out of the house, slamming the door behind her.

The room remains quiet for the next couple of minutes, both men staring at Samantha's back, as her shoulders rise and fall, her body still shaking with anger.

Finally, she turns, a pitiful look in her eyes, as she addresses them.

"I'm really sorry about that, guys. I knew she was religious because she talked to me about her father when she bailed me out, but I never imagined she was one of those insane Bible thumpers."

Derek pats her shoulder.

"Oh, Sam, forget about it. It's nothing. We've become used to people like her by now."

Samantha pushes her fist into the kitchen table.

"God damn it, you shouldn't. _You_ shouldn't get used to people discriminating you. _They_ should get used to accepting the fact that there are people who are different from them out there."

Tom smiles sadly.

"You really didn't need to do that for us, kiddo. Although, I have to say, I really appreciate the fact that you did," he tells her, lifting her chin, and making her smile back at him. "I'm proud that we're sharing a house with someone who cares so deeply about us."

Samantha pulls them both in for a hug.

"You guys... we're not friends here. We're family."

The other two wrap their arms around her, and they share a tight embrace.

"That we are, Sam."


End file.
